The grand aspirations of men who wished to welcome Celia Brillion as their wife shattered instantly with just one sentence from Jeremy.
A sharp clinking sound rang out across the banquet hall. The glasses held by men dropped to the floor, spilling dark red wine onto the ground.
“Now then, be sure to attend my imperial coronation ceremony, to be held in two weeks’ time!”
Jeremy observed the stunned crowd with satisfaction. He raised one corner of his lips and wrapped an arm around Celia Brillion’s waist—a clear declaration that she belonged to him.
Leaving behind a sea of shocked gazes, Jeremy downed his wine in one gulp. The crowd stirred in confusion.
The Crown Prince had personally declared Celia Brillion his mistress, leaving those who had set their sights on her like dogs that had lost the chicken they were chasing.
This also meant he had no intention of allowing Celia to leave the imperial palace.
Among the chaos in the banquet hall, only Celia herself remained perfectly calm.
Crown Prince Jeremy stood waiting before Dietrich Calypso’s mansion, ready to escort Celia.
—Dietrich, do not come to the banquet. If you are discovered, I will not take responsibility for what follows.
He had anticipated something like this when he seized her wrist, subtly warning Dietrich.
Jeremy licked his lips as he looked at her in her white mermaid gown. Just before stepping into the banquet hall, he whispered to her:
“To celebrate my birthday, I shall bestow upon you a great gift.”
And here was the result.
He had given her a gift she neither wanted nor would accept.
A precarious position—not an official wife, but merely a mistress who could be discarded whenever he grew tired.
There could not be a farce more absurd than this.
The Crown Prince had lost nothing, yet claimed Celia Brillion—the object of every man’s desire.
Most of the men in the banquet hall gulped down wine after wine, trying to suppress their burning resentment.
First snatched away by the Emperor, now seized by the Crown Prince.
Though imperial authority had weakened, they were still members of the royal family. Who would dare oppose them?
Though their desire to possess Celia entirely burned fiercely, no one was willing to risk losing their head for her.
Gabriel Brillion watched the scene with barely contained amusement.
“Mother, just look at that. That fox has already seduced His Highness the Crown Prince.”
“Not a wife, but a mistress. That means he intends to enjoy her without granting her any real power.”
“Though she looks unaffected, I wonder what Celia is truly feeling inside? Just when she thought she’d escaped the Emperor, now she’s fallen straight into the Crown Prince’s grasp.”
Amid the commotion, Gabriel exchanged words with Hariel Brillion, chuckling softly.
At that moment, a cold voice sliced through the air, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.
“Your Highness.”
It was Ileon Gredrick. As Ileon stepped forward, people instinctively parted to make way. Balt Portman followed closely behind, his heavy footsteps echoing.
Ileon pushed through the crowd and stood before the dais.
Tall as he was, even from the floor below, his eyes were nearly level with the Crown Prince standing atop the dais.
Jeremy’s smile faltered slightly at Ileon’s sudden intrusion.
In contrast, Ileon wore a broad smile as he offered his congratulations.
“Happy birthday, Your Highness. I offer my sincerest wishes.”
“Thank you, Ileon.”
“…However.”
Ileon paused, slowly scanning the banquet hall. His gaze, observing the chaotic expressions of those around, finally settled on Celia Brillion.
An unreadable glint flickered in his deep blue eyes. For a moment, Celia felt a chill run down her spine.
Feeling his intense gaze, Celia looked up at Ileon.
Ileon smiled brightly and introduced himself.
“Pleased to meet you, Lady Celia. I am Ileon Gredrick of the Gredrick Dukedom.”
The murmurs in the hall grew louder. Ileon was well known for being kind to women.
Yet now, after the Crown Prince had publicly declared Celia his mistress, Ileon was openly showing interest in her.
Jeremy wanted to sharply rebuke Ileon, but found himself unable to speak.
After all, Ileon was one of the famed Three Dukes—men of great influence—and had done nothing more than introduce himself.
Still, Jeremy instinctively felt an inexplicable unease. Eager to end the situation quickly, he spoke.
“Ileon, is your introduction complete?”
“Your Highness.”
Ileon continued, still smiling pleasantly.
“May I have a brief word with Lady Celia alone?”
“…”
“Just a moment is all I ask.”
Jeremy glanced uneasily at Balt Portman standing behind Ileon. Their eyes met, but Balt offered no greeting or congratulations.
Unlike Ileon, who was reasonable to talk to, Balt was not someone with whom dialogue was possible. The mere fact that he had brought a sword into the banquet hall proved he was far from sane.
Jeremy had sent invitations to them as foundational figures of Abelon, but never expected them to actually come. The Three Dukes hadn’t even attended the Emperor’s funeral.
Yet they faced no criticism. Descendants of founding heroes, they were practically symbols of Abelon itself.
With two of the Three Dukes personally attending, the imperial family’s dignity—long diminished—had been revived. Thus, Jeremy could not afford to treat them carelessly.
Refusing even a short conversation would invite public scorn.
He wasn’t afraid of criticism, but feared the Dukes turning their backs on him.
Besides, he had already declared Celia his mistress—what difference could a few words with Ileon possibly make?
Reluctantly, Jeremy removed his arm from Celia’s waist.
“Well, if the Duke wishes it, then so be it.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Having received permission, Ileon bowed slightly and extended his hand to Celia.
“Lady Celia.”
Celia took Ileon’s outstretched hand. Despite his gentle expression, his hand was bitterly cold.
Ileon led Celia away from the banquet hall.
Balt Portman smirked at Jeremy, who stared intently at Celia’s retreating figure, and muttered words he didn’t truly mean.
“Your Highness, I hope you enjoy the rest of the banquet.”
Once outside the banquet hall, Ileon immediately headed straight into the maze garden. The sky, thick with the festivities, had grown completely dark.
Ileon seemed intimately familiar with the palace grounds, guiding them deeper into the garden along the moonlit path.
“Lady Celia.”
Only when they reached the innermost part of the garden did Ileon release her hand.
His long, silver hair, tinted with darkness, shimmered in the moonlight. Placing a hand over his chest, Ileon spoke politely.
“Suddenly requesting a private conversation must have been unsettling, I imagine. The situation seemed rather difficult.”
“…”
“Accused of the Emperor’s murder not long ago, and now declared the Crown Prince’s mistress. Did you truly consent to this, Lady Celia?”
Celia clearly remembered what Dietrich Calypso had told her. Was the man standing before her now truly her real enemy, as Dietrich had warned?
Had killing the Emperor truly been a pointless act?
Now, with no one watching—was it wise to use her ability?
Seeing Celia remain silent, Ileon closed his eyes and smiled.
“There’s no need to be so guarded. I merely wished to speak with you because I intend to help you.”
“Why would you want to help me?”
At Celia’s question, Ileon brought his sleeve to his lips, smiling.
“Could it be out of pity and compassion?”
“…I find it impossible to believe that such a reason alone would make you show me kindness.”
Celia sneered, looking up at Ileon with thinly veiled contempt.
“Are you, too, Your Grace, merely thinking of what you’d like to do with me?”
“Ahh, hahahaha!”
Ileon burst into loud laughter at her words—so loudly that Celia, the one who had spoken, felt awkward instead.
Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye with his sleeve, Ileon said:
“I do admire your confidence, Lady Celia.”
“…If not that, then what possible reason could you have for wanting to help me? No matter how I think about it, you have no reason to rescue me.”
“I am exceedingly generous toward things that interest me.”
“What about me, exactly, interests the Duke?”
A sticky, clinging gaze fell upon Celia. Yet his eyes were unlike those of other men.
Rather than lust, his gaze resembled that of an observer who had discovered something intriguing.
“Lady Celia.”
Just hearing her name spoken sent an involuntary chill down her spine.
Outwardly gentle, perhaps—but Celia was certain, at least in her judgment, that he was far from a gentle man.
“I know full well that you were the one who assassinated the Emperor. You entered his chamber and stabbed him in the neck with a dagger, didn’t you?”
Ileon stated it with certainty, his eyes lingering obsessively on Celia’s red lips.
“It’s alright. I’m not here to reproach you.”
Celia tried to read Ileon’s intentions, but he was exceptionally skilled at hiding his true thoughts—leaving no opening.
“Are you saying this to gain leverage over my weakness?”
“Not at all. What would I do with knowledge of your weakness, Lady Celia?”
“Then why, exactly, are you telling me this?”
“Lady Celia.”
Ileon leaned close, whispering softly into her ear.
“Did Dietrich tell you to watch out for me?”
For the first time, Celia—who had remained unshaken—could not help but be startled. Seeing her wide-eyed expression, Ileon smiled faintly.
“As I thought.”
“…Just who exactly are you?”
“Be wary of him. That is all I wished to tell you.”
Ileon gently pressed his lips to the back of Celia’s hand, then slowly raised his head.
“If you let your guard down, he will devour you—every last piece.”
My Step-brother Is Obsessed With Me (Female-dominant)
A gentle female protagonist vs pitiful in the early stage, and a sick male protagonist in the later stage
Cheng Songer transmigrated into the body of a vicious cannon fodder female supporting character with the same name as her in a female-dominant novel.
In the original story, the cannon fodder female supporting character was inhumane, committing domestic violence, gambling excessively, being lustful, and even wanting to sell her stepbrother to a brothel for money.
As luck would have it, she just happened to transmigrate at this time.
Seeing Cheng Qingzhi biting his lip, enduring the tears in his eyes, looking pitiful, her heart softened.
She stuffed the money back into the Madam’s hand and reached out to him.
“Brother, come home with me.”
